


Hope

by majesticrhyhorn



Series: Holiday Fics 2019 [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Cemetery, Christmas, Death, Gen, Hospital, Jewish!Martin if ya squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21633400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticrhyhorn/pseuds/majesticrhyhorn
Summary: Monday, 25 December 2017Martin needs to get out of the office.
Series: Holiday Fics 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559281
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 for a December/holiday fic prompt list that I saved last year, but didn't know what to do with! Titles will be the prompt word because I'm bad at titles.
> 
> This takes place between seasons 3 and 4, but spoiler warnings apply for post-season 1 onward.

Martin sighed and put his head in his hands, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on the spreadsheets and emails in front of him anymore. The institute had gone completely silent with nearly everyone gone for Christmas, which made it hard to concentrate on anything. Basira and Melanie had taken the day off with mostly everyone else, and not even Peter had been around in a week or so.

Martin was completely alone in the institute, except for maybe a handful of researchers getting in last-minute work before heading out to do more enjoyable things for the holiday season.

With no one around to say otherwise, Martin decided to call it a day just before lunch. He could find other ways to occupy himself.

He pulled his coat and scarf tightly around himself, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t too sure where to go, but his legs guided him to a flower shop that was still open. Taking a deep breath, he entered the shop and bought two small bouquets of flowers, knowing exactly where he was going afterwards.

One bus ride later, Martin entered the cemetery, picking up and fixing flowers knocked over by the wind as he walked. He stopped at his mother’s grave, mostly just to say hi. The flowers he’d left for her two weeks before, just before the start of Hanukkah, were still there. He took a moment to straighten them out, then continued on his way.

He decided to sit on the grass when he got to Tim’s grave. There were red flowers already placed there, so he arranged the white ones he’d gotten into the same vase. Content with his work, he sat back and sighed. Martin didn’t celebrate Christmas, but he knew that Tim had enjoyed celebrating the holiday, especially with the rest of them in the archives.

“Happy Christmas, Tim,” he said quietly, willing his voice to stay steady. He liked to visit Tim whenever he visited his mother, so there wasn’t much to say, just rambling about the previous weeks at the institute. He’d debated a lot with himself about burying his mother in the same cemetery as Tim after she’d died, but figured that it would just be easier in the long run, and it was, being able to visit both of them at the same time.

“It’s still hard,” he continued, ending his rambling about emails and institute finances. Of course Tim wouldn’t be free of the institute, even in death. “Being Peter’s assistant isn’t terrible, but it’s a lonely job. I haven’t talked much with Basira since moving over, not that we were ever good friends before, and I haven’t talked much to Melanie either, but she’s never in the mood for talking. Jon still hasn’t woken up, but I’m trying to stay hopeful. He’s just gotta pull through, you know? But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” He sat quietly for a while, listening to birds chirping. He looked across the cemetery, watching other families visiting loved ones. He wondered what Tim would be saying if he were still there. Listening and giving him advice, or telling him off for bringing work to his resting place, Martin didn’t know. He smiled at the thought of Tim grumbling at his moping. At this point, he figured he’d stayed long enough, tormenting Tim with his problems. “I think I’m gonna go now. See you soon, Tim.”

He got up from the ground, brushing dirt off his knees and left the cemetery. He was ready to get on one bus, but thought better of it, instead running into a shop to grab some things and walking back to his flat, a few blocks away.

A few hours later, he left his flat, holding the second bouquet of flowers and a container in hand. He hopped on a train and got off a few stops later, at the hospital.

He was trying to stay cheerful, but felt his morale draining with each floor the lift passed. He walked into the neuro ward with a smile on his face, though. Visiting hours for this ward were 24/7, which he was grateful for. He stopped by the nurses’ station first, dropping off the container of homemade cookies, much to their appreciation, then he made his way over to Jon’s room, trying to stay as normal as possible.

“Happy Christmas, Jon!” he said cheerily, putting the flowers by the bare windowsill. He guessed that the ones he’d brought the previous time had wilted and been removed. After arranging the flowers to his liking, he sat in the chair by the bed.

Jon was just as Martin had left him the time before: unmoving and unbreathing. All but dead, with his active mind being the only part of him showing any life.

Jon looked small, laying in the bed. He _was_ small. Too small for comfort. Martin had been around to see the nurses turn Jon before, and they moved him without much effort. That made Martin uncomfortable, seeing this feisty grump of a man being manhandled so easily.

Martin couldn’t bring himself to talk freely, like he’d done at Tim’s grave. Instead, the tears began to roll.

The year before had been so different. It had been after the whole worm deal. He’d gone to the institute holiday dinner with Jon, Tim, and--

He nearly choked on a sob, thinking about Sasha, or the thing that wasn’t Sasha effortlessly sliding into their lives. He still felt guilty about that, not knowing that that wasn’t Sasha, but how could any of them have known? Everything had been wrong for so long, without them realizing. Their last real holiday together had been in 2015, just before officially moving into the archives. Before a Sasha he couldn’t remember had been taken from them, before Tim had gotten consumed by his need for revenge, before Jon had been accused of murder and kidnapped by a mannequin and put into a coma. His friends were gone now.

The life he’d known had been gone for longer than he was willing to admit. His mother was gone. Though her disdain for him had been a constant, he always made an effort to spend holidays with her, though she’d stopped having any interest in celebrating or observing anything towards the end, due to her weakened state. Martin always told himself that she was family, and he had to be there for her, since they didn’t have anyone else.

As much as he wouldn’t say it out loud, Jon was gone too. Physically, he was still there, laying in the hospital bed, but at the same time, he wasn’t. He may as well be dead, though Martin didn’t want to accept it. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to accept that Jon wasn’t coming back. 

Martin shook that thought out of his head, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes. He stood, moving to the edge of Jon’s bed and brushing the gray-streaked strands away from his forehead.

Jon would be okay. He’d have to be. While Martin didn’t have much of anything left from the life he once knew, he still had hope.


End file.
